


Art Therapy

by daughterofdurinanddestiel



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Art, Artists, Bilbo Is Awesome, Consort Bilbo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Laketown, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Portraits, Pre-DOS, Stress Relief, Thorin Feels, Thorin is a Softie, Thorin is an artist, Thorin wants Bilbo to be his consort, art therapy, concerned Bilbo, pre-botfa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofdurinanddestiel/pseuds/daughterofdurinanddestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo questions Bilbo about a portrait he has of himself, making Bilbo reminisce:</p>
<p>The day before the Company is to leave Lake-Town to go to Erebor, Bilbo goes to check on Thorin, who locked himself in his chambers.</p>
<p>He then finds out about Thorin's secret talent...and his secret feelings towards his burglar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I once saw a prompt on Tumblr that said maybe the drawing Old Bilbo has in his trunk was actually done by Thorin. This was months ago and I don't remember who posted it, but I wrote this not long after and was too afraid to post it.

The days before the party were busy, but old Bilbo Baggins made sure he had time to pack his trunk...his special trunk. While he was doing so, his nephew and ward, Frodo, came in and spotted a lovely charcoal portrait of Bilbo from when he was a much younger Hobbit.  
"Uncle, who drew that?" Frodo asked, wide-eyed. "It's stunning." There was a signature, but it was in a rune that Frodo was unfamiliar with.  
Bilbo gazed at the Khuzdul rune and sighed. "I got that a long time ago, as a gift from my...well, from someone very special to me." He straightened up and brushed the tears from his eyes. "Now go on and deliver those invitations, my lad! The party is growing ever near."  
When Frodo left, Bilbo allowed himself another glance at the portrait, which had been done by a loving hand, by an artist who wasn't capturing Bilbo's image, but his essence.  
He caressed the rune written in the bottom right corner of the photo. It was a rune he'd seen many times on a dented silver ring. He let himself get lost in a very precious memory...

***

The master of Lake-Town was so taken with the promise of Erebor's gold that he gave the Company the grandest house in town...not much, considering the severe state of disrepair the entire city was in. But it was a chance to cook in a real kitchen and sleep in a real bed for a couple of days before they went on the last leg of their journey, so everyone was happy.  
The night before they were to leave for the Lonely Mountain there was a grand dinner, cooked by Bilbo and Bombur. None of the dwarves would admit it, but Bilbo was the best cook they'd ever encountered.  
Under the merriment, everyone was uneasy. They were, in fact, less than twelve hours away from robbing a dragon. No small feat for small folk. So they were being even more rowdy than usual, in compensation to their collective fear.  
Bilbo, always observant, especially when Thorin Oakenshield was concerned, noticed the king was mostly silent during dinner and left soon after, and never returned, even to smoke his pipe with the Company. Bilbo figured he was nervous about the next day, more so than others. This was his legacy, and he had been there when it was destroyed.  
Bilbo finally decided to turn in, surprised that the injured Kili was still drinking with his brother, Fili. He couldn't recall if he'd left his pack in the last room on the left or right, so he just opened the door to the right, and walked in on Thorin.  
Thorin, who had been concentrating very hard on the task before him, jumped, startled. "Bilbo."  
Bilbo's face was red with embarrassment. "Ah, Thorin, I'm so sorry. I forgot which room was mine and...wow...are these yours?" Scattered on the floor were pieces of parchment, on which had been sketched portraits. Some were of people he knew (Fili, Kili, Gandalf and their ponies) and some were strangers, mostly dwarves.  
"Yes, they're mine," Thorin said, blushing. He was, currently, sitting in front of a makeshift easel, making a new portrait.  
"I never knew you could draw like this," Bilbo said. "They're wonderful. You captured their vibrancy, their life, so well."  
"Thank you," he said, going back to work on the drawing before him. "Why don't you sit, Master Burglar? I've enough wine for two in here." He gestured to a seat in front of the table he was working before.  
"How long have you been drawing?" Bilbo asked, seeing some discarded works that had, obviously, not pleased Thorin enough to finish.  
"My grandfather had a specialist teach my siblings and I as children," he said. "I took to portraits right away. It's a way of making me relax when I'm too tense. Don't tell anyone, though. Fili and Kili know, and that's it. I don't need anyone teasing me."  
"I won't," Bilbo said, looking over some other drawings. Dwalin, Balin and an older man Bilbo assumed was Thror stared back at him. Never had he imagined that Thorin could do such amazing portraits. He never seemed sensitive enough for this sort of work. But it looked like he read people quite well, andbut had enough heart to put his feelings towards his friends and family on paper forever.  
Bilbo wondered how he'd appear if Thorin were to draw him? Scared and lagging, sticking out like a sore thumb? Happy, talking with his nephews? A warrior, even, saving him from orcs? Who knew how Thorin saw him. He obviously didn't feel like Bilbo felt, that much was evident.  
Bilbo had never been in love before. Not until Thorin Oakenshield waltzed into his home uninvited, acting and looking every bit like a king, had he ever entertained the idea oflove. He was happy in Bag-End, with his books and trinkets. He had had no need for love...or so he thought. But this angry, scruffy dwarf had changed everything for him.  
He came upon a portrait of a female dwarf, done in a loving hand. "Who is this?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. "The future queen of Erebor?"  
Thorin glanced at the picture before he went back to his work. "You could say that." Bilbo's heart stopped. "She's my sister, Dis." It resumed beating again, relieved.  
"Is she Fili and Kili's mother?" Bilbo asked.  
Thorin nodded. "Their father passed away when Fili was four and Kili was a newborn. An accident on the road...a few dwarves died that day. I assumed that role in their lives almost without thought. They are childish, and irresponsible, but they're good dwarves. I know that, between Dis and I, they'll bring honor to the Line of Durin."  
"You were very selfless to take on the role of father. I give you a lot of credit, Thorin," Bilbo told him.  
"Well, I'm sure if you had a nephew in need, you'd do whatever you could to be of assistance," Thorin said as he made a few more strokes of the pencil. He didn't miss Bilbo nodding his head, however.  
They sat in silence, Thorin absorbed in his art and Bilbo absorbed in watching Thorin. He was so unconsciously sexy, his very being centered on that drawing.  
He must care about the subject a lot to be concentrating so hard, Bilbo thought. I wonder who it is?  
"Thorin?"  
"Hm?"  
"Why did you hide away here after barely eating dinner?" Bilbo asked. "I'm worried about you. You shouldn't shut yourself away from everyone. The Company cares about you."  
Thorin looked up at him. "And what about you, Master Baggins?"  
"What about me?" Bilbo asked.  
"Do you care about me at all?" Thorin hadn't meant to say that. Damn Elvish wine! "Do you ever think well of me? I want the truth. Tomorrow we may all be incinerated."  
Bilbo, unable to hold it in any longer, the threat of losing Thorin before he could tell him how he felt hitting him like a brick, said, "You great fool!" Thorin jumped, surprised at the outburst. "Would I be here, drinking with you and talking to you about your art, if I didn't care about you?"  
Thorin shook his head sadly. "Bilbo, you misunderstand me. I...I do not mean do you like me. I mean...I want..." He sighed. "If I send you in to that dragon tomorrow and he kils you, I'll never be able to live with myself."  
"I signed the contract," Bilbo said. "I know the risks. I want to help you. I want to give you your home back."  
He still does not understand, and it is my own fault. I have not made myself clear, Thorin mused. "Bilbo, come here."  
"You used my name twice in a minute. You really must be drunk," he commented as he walked to stand next to Thorin.  
"Look," was all the dwarf said.  
Bilbo turned to behold the portrait that Thorin had been painstakingly working on all night. And what he saw was...a mirror. Looking back at him, full of sass, class and a dash of sweetness he never remembered possessing, was himself. This was no drawing: this was his soul on canvas, the way Thorin saw him. In this drawing he was no meek halfling, but a proud, strong man with beautiful curls and a kind eye.  
"Thorin..." Bilbo was at a loss for words.  
Rough hands grabbed his waist and turned him around. He was now placed between Thorin's legs, the dwarf's arms wrapped around his waist and their faces inches apart. His heartbeat quickened and his face flushed.  
"Do you understand now, Bilbo?" Thorin asked. "I've tried since meeting you to capture your essence in charcoal, yet I was unable to master it. It was because I was afraid of doing you an injustice on paper. I didn't think I could be accurate with the many layers of your personality...your soul. You confuse me, you enrage me, and you delight me, Bilbo Baggins. I cannot let another moment pass without you knowing how I feel."  
He's drunk, Bilbo rationalized. He doesn't know what he's saying. But as Thorin pulled him closer into a warm hug, Bilbo clutched him tightly. "Thorin. I love you, Thorin," he whispered in his ear. He pulled back to look into his eyes, such a beautiful blue. "I never expected this. I never wanted this. But I love you with my very being. You're everything to me. I--I've been holding this in for so long!" Bilbo's eyes filled with tears.  
Thorin leaned in and kissed them away, his lips as light as mithril. "I love you, Bilbo. I needed you to know that before everything changes tomorrow. Tomorrow, we might lose each other somehow, and I couldn't live with myself if I'd let something happen to you without telling you how I feel."  
Thorin held him about the waist with one strong arm, and his other hands caressed Bilbo's cheek, neck and then weaved itself into his soft, honey curls. He said something Bilbo didn't understand. When asked for a translation, Thorin said, "It is a Khuzdul phrase. There is no accurate meaning in the common tongue, but it's a promise."  
"What kind of promise?" Bilbo asked.  
"That, if we both survive...I'll be only yours, if you'll have me." Thorin looked worried, as if Bilbo was going to push him away and tell him he didn't want anything to do with him once his contract was fulfilled.  
"Thorin...of course I'll have you. I--are you sure you know what you're saying? You've had a lot of wine," Bilbo said, worried that Thorin was intoxicated and would hate himself (and Bilbo) in the morning.  
Thorin shifted in the chair and pulled Bilbo off his feet and into his lap. The chair was old, and were these two Men it would've broken. But for a dwarf and a hobbit, it was perfect.  
"I am not drunk, Master Baggins. I'm perfectly aware of what I'm saying." His arms held Bilbo like a vise, strong and warm. Bilbo could feel Thorin's steady heartbeat in his own chest, smell the distinctive earthy scent of his love. "I tried so hard to not care," Thorin continued. "Tried to ignore your smile, your wit...your laugh. I pretended to everyone that I didn't care about you. Do you know, I almost left Bag End before you could sign that contract? I couldn't bare to ignore my...attraction to you all the time on the road. But Gandalf is a persistent bastard, and I had no choice. I thought, maybe, that the feelings would fade, but they did not. Instead, they only intensified."  
"Thorin, the only reason I ran after you all was because, when I woke up the morning after the unexpected party, you weren't there. It had only been a few hours, and already I missed you terribly." Bilbo smiled and went to lay his head down on Thorin's shoulder.  
Immediately, Thorin's hand went to Bilbo's curls, gently massaging his scalp and twirling the soft hair around his fingers. He'd never expected to find his One. Many dwarves never do, so he didn't despair over the fact. But then he met this halfling. What was it about him? His innocence? Partly. But it was something more, something deep inside of him that came out when he had defended Thorin against Azog. He had been trying to draw him for so long, never managing to capture the magnificence of his hobbit till today.  
"Bilbo." There was a crack in Thorin's voice that made Bilbo look up sharply. "My little burglar. I do not want to lose you."  
"You're not going to lose me, Thorin," Bilbo soothed. "I'm not going anywhere but to Erebor with you, after I've beaten that nasty dragon."  
Thorin rumbled a chuckle. "The courage of hobbits... Bilbo, we might all die tomorrow. I don't want to be responsible for your death."  
Shaking his head, Bilbo said, "But you won't be responsible, Thorin. You can't possibly kill me--you make me feel alive."  
His small hands caressed Thorin like he'd dreamed of doing so many times. He felt his rough beard, his barely lined cheeks, a finger brushed his lips and both hands went to rest in the dwarf' long, silky hair as the hobbit leaned in and gently, so gently, pressed his lips to Thorin's. He tasted of wine and unspoken promises.  
The kiss that started out so chaste turned into something more as Thorin pushed Bilbo's lips open with his own, tasting the hobbit. His beard brushed Bilbo's soft face, creating a delightful friction. Bilbo wound his arms around Thorin's neck, pushing them as close together as possible. Thorin grasped Bilbo's head and tilted it back, gaining access to his neck. As he sucked and nibbled on the pale flesh, Bilbo let out a sensual groan and Thorin felt his body respond accordingly.  
He went back to Bilbo's lips, sucking on his tongue and pressing his other hand into the small of Bilbo's back. He felt Bilbo start to grind in his lap and he, regretfully, pulled back.  
"Bilbo, I intend for you to remain in Erebor with me as my consort. As much as I want to explore every inch of you right now, I will not dishonor you in that manner. When we lay together, it will be after I publicly claim you as mine." His voice was deep and raspy with lust, words dripping with promise.  
Bilbo nodded, understanding, and believing with all his heart that they would have all the time in the world to be together once Smaug was defeated. "Can't I sleep by you tonight? Just sleep."  
Thorin gave him a rare smile. "Of course you can." Easily picking Bilbo up and depositing him on the bed, he removed his boots and joined him, cuddling him close under the heavy comforter. His lips caressed Bilbo's face and neck again.  
"Amralime," he whispered, and that was the last thing Bilbo heard before he fell into a deep sleep.  
They woke before dawn, still in an embrace. It was then that Thorin gave Bilbo the drawing, to keep. It was the second time he'd given art away, the only other one being a sketch of Fili and Kili when Kili was a baby that his sister kept with her always. His work was personal to him, and he didn't just hand it off like a knife or soldered ring. But, deep in his heart, he felt death looming over him, and he wanted Bilbo to have something personal and tangible to remember him by.  
They heard Balin knocking on doors, waking dwarves left and right. Thorin donned his new cloak and wrapped both himself and Bilbo in it for one last kiss.  
"No matter what happens, remember this moment: you and I here, and what this means. I love you, Bilbo Baggins."  
Bilbo looked up with tears in his big, bright eyes. "And I love you, Thorin Oakenshield...my king."

***

Bilbo woke himself from his reverie when Frodo came back to Bag End. He hastily wiped tears from his eyes and carefully rolled the sketch up again. He had a small, waterproof tube he kept it in so it would never be ruined.  
Suddenly, he was eager for the party to be done and over with. He dreaded hearing knocks on the little round door and knowing that, when he opened it, the person on the other side would not be the one he truly wanted to see.  
He bent his head and whispered, "I'll see you soon, amralime."


End file.
